by Cheryl Holt
She posed the question without considering, but the answer was obvious. He viewed Margaret as being too top-lofty to shackle herself to Sandy, and Joanna was in the same boat with him. He thought he was so accursedly superior.
“You can tell me about the quarrel some other time,” she blithely said, as if she wasn’t interested in his reply. “I won’t wreck such a beautiful morning by discussing your family’s problems. I really don’t care about them.”
At her saving him from having to clarify his reasoning, he looked relieved.
He offered a mock salute, spun on his heel, and left. She flopped down onto the pillow, listening as he tromped down the stairs, as he stopped to pet Mutt, as he opened and shut the door. She turned an ear toward the window, yearning to hear him ride away, but the woods were silent.
A few minutes later, Mutt strolled in and lay down on the floor by the bed.
“I’m in trouble,” she told him.
He woofed in agreement.
She peered down at him. “What shall I do about it?”
He thumped his tail on the rug, but had no other response.
She flopped down again and began to cry.
While Jacob had still been with her, she’d pretended indifference over their dalliance, but she was more overwhelmed than she could ever explain. How was she to manage the raucous sentiment swirling inside her?
There were stories about how a virgin’s ruination could be a disturbing event, and they were so exhaustingly true. She felt as if her veins had been scraped raw, her emotions pounded to the ground with huge clubs.
She was changed forever. He had changed her forever, and nothing would ever be the same.
“I’m so excited!”
Caroline Grey turned to Libby Carstairs and hugged her. It was a spontaneous gesture that surprised them both.
They weren’t demonstrative women. In light of the manner in which they’d been raised, they’d learned to keep their distance. They tamped down their emotions. They definitely didn’t impulsively hug others.
They were standing in the foyer at Barrett Manor, the home of Libby’s betrothed, Luke Watson. He was an earl and Barrett one of the finest mansions in England.
After several tumultuous weeks—where Libby had wound up in jail in London and Luke had had to bail her out—Libby was about to wed him. Massive wedding preparations were underway, so the house was in a frenzy. It was difficult to take a single step without having to dodge a servant, tradesman, or crate of nuptial supplies that had just been delivered.
“She’ll come, won’t she?” Libby asked.
“She can’t refuse. When he talked to her previously, she was amenable. I refuse to accept she’d have changed her mind so fast.”
“If she has, I’ll have Luke send an army of guards to forcibly bring her to Barrett.”
They were discussing two people: Howard Periwinkle and Joanna James.
Joanna was the third person in their notorious trio. Twenty years earlier, they’d been dubbed the Lost Girls of the Caribbean due to their being the sole survivors of their shipwreck. After the navy had returned them to England, they’d been wrenched apart and given to various relatives.
Libby had been claimed by a friend of her mother who’d pretended to be her uncle. The navy had believed him, but in reality, he’d been a convincing fraud and no kin to her at all. He’d groomed her for a life on the stage, and she’d constantly toured England as the Mystery Girl of the Caribbean.
He’d been sly and cunning, and he’d taught her to be tough and resilient, but to flaunt her attributes too. She was a flamboyant siren, and every man who laid eyes on her fell in love with her. Out of that endless stream of admirers, Luke Watson, Lord Barrett, was the lucky fellow who’d captured her heart.
As to Caroline, she’d been handed over to her Grandfather Walter who’d been a cruel, pious fiend. Under his roof, she’d lived a true Cinderella existence where she’d been maligned and scorned, her spirit crushed in every conceivable way.
She’d escaped that desperate period with her sanity and gentle nature intact, though she couldn’t exactly explain how. She supposed it was a tribute to her deceased parents who’d been kind and happy.
She and Libby had never seen each other again until the prior week, and they still hadn’t seen Joanna. They didn’t know anything about her or her childhood, and they were on pins and needles, waiting to find out.
Mr. Periwinkle was a newspaper reporter who’d written the articles about Libby being Little Henrietta Pendleton, and because of his efforts, she and her father, Lord Roland, were finally together. If the stories hadn’t been printed, her reconciliation with her father probably wouldn’t have happened.
Periwinkle had tracked down Caroline in London and had conveyed her to Libby at Barrett. When they’d been marooned girls, she and Libby had viewed themselves as sisters, and during the years they’d been separated, they’d never stopped thinking they were. Their reunification was the perfect conclusion, and at the wedding, Caroline would be an honored guest who would sit in the front pew at the church.
They wanted Joanna to sit there too, and Mr. Periwinkle had just left to fetch her.
“If you ordered Luke to ride after Joanna,” Caroline said, “would he?”
“Of course. He dotes on me. He can’t help it.”
Caroline chuckled. “Have you noticed how relentlessly you boss the poor man? You have him wrapped around your finger.”
“If he’s not willing to spoil me rotten, what would be the point of marrying?”
Libby studied Caroline as if it were a valid question.
Luke was an aristocrat from an ancient, powerful family. He was a retired naval captain and a hero of the Crown, and Libby was an actress and singer, but she deemed herself the superior person in the match. She’d grown up in the public eye, being adored and fawned over. Now, with her being named Little Henrietta too, she was an aristocrat’s daughter herself.
People had always loved her, and the revelations about Henrietta had rendered her even more infamous. Luke was handsome and commanding, possessed of a fortune, title, and respected lineage, but next to Libby, he faded into the shadows. Yet he was so besotted that he didn’t seem to care.
Libby’s half-sister, Penny, bustled up and whisked her away. Penny was Lord Roland’s other daughter from his second marriage, and she’d been reared to run a mansion like Barrett. Libby had no talent in that arena, so Penny was planning the wedding, as well as the days of celebration that would be held afterward.
As they strolled off, Caroline went in the other direction to locate her own fiancé, Caleb Ralston. He’d just slithered to Barrett from London or, perhaps, it was more accurate to admit that Luke had dragged him to the estate. When they’d still been in town, he and Caroline had quarreled dreadfully, and she’d pretty much decided they would never wind up together. There had been too many unsolvable issues dividing them.
But during their brief amour, she’d been seduced and ruined, and Luke was a stickler for the proprieties. He’d been adamant that Caleb propose to Caroline and that they wed right away. Caleb had complained the entire trip to Barrett, insisting Caroline was too angry to consider it, but Luke was a formidable character who had an annoying habit of getting his way.
So she and Caleb were tying the knot—sooner rather than later—and they intended a small, private event. They didn’t wish to detract from Libby and Luke’s grand fete. Most likely, they would have Luke obtain a Special License for them so they could proceed immediately, and she was wondering if they couldn’t accomplish it just after Libby and Luke spoke their vows.
Why not? The church would be warmed up and the vicar in the nuptial spirit.
Caroline had never been the type to fuss over herself. She simply wanted to have Caleb’s ring on her finger as swiftly as possible so he couldn’t change his mind. He was a con
firmed bachelor, and she couldn’t be convinced that he’d ever willingly shackle himself.
In recent weeks, she’d staggered through so many wild escapades that her head was spinning. She’d severed her lengthy betrothal to her awful cousin, then had escaped from her horrid relatives and fled to London by herself. While there, she’d experienced nothing but calamities. Caleb had rescued her from them, but then, he’d promptly ruined her.
They’d fought and parted, then she’d been reunited with Libby. She’d learned she was a rich heiress and her male kin had been stealing from her for decades. And she was about to wed. It was too much to abide or absorb.
It took her forever to find Caleb. He was loafing on the verandah, sitting at a table and drinking a glass of wine. He had recently endured so much upheaval that his head was spinning too. He’d forced his brother, Blake, to marry her cousin, Janet. He’d saved Caroline’s fortune from her despicable uncle. He’d had himself named trustee of her funds so he could protect them for her.
And, merely to make her ecstatically happy—and persuade her to marry him—he’d given his gambling club to his old guardian, Sybil Jones.
He’d served in the navy for years, and after he’d retired, he’d started the club to earn an income. It had been enormously lucrative and enormously debauched, but Caroline had viewed it as an atrocious venture. In order to win her, he’d blithely relinquished it. In the face of such a humbling act, how could she have refused to wed him?
He’d be plenty busy though and never bored. He was a veritable genius with money, and he would manage her vast trust accounts, which meant he would become her kept man—with her having all the wealth in the family and him having none. He was greatly humored over such a peculiar twist of fate.
“Where is Libby?” he asked as she approached. “You two are thick as thieves. You haven’t been separated once since I first walked in the door.”
She pulled up a chair, but he deemed her to be too far away from him. He drew her onto his lap, not caring if she was observed snuggled there.
“Her sister, Penny, pried her away from me,” Caroline said. “She has to make some decisions about the wedding.”
“She is the most stunning vixen I’ve ever encountered. The more I watch her, the more I understand the stories I’ve heard about her.”
Libby was charismatic and magnetic, and people stopped and stared when she sauntered by, and Caroline said, “I wish I’d seen her on the stage.”
“You may still have the chance. From Luke’s many comments, it seems she’s not quitting.”
“An earl’s wife? Appearing in theaters?”
“Luke swears he’ll allow her to continue performing.” Caleb leaned nearer and murmured, “If he attempted to prevent her, she’d tell him to stuff it. He’ll never have any control over her.”
“I can just envision the playbill that will be printed: Libby Carstairs Tonight! Lady Barrett in Person! Little Henrietta Too!”
“I’m glad you’re somewhat normal,” Caleb said. “If I had to deal with all that pomp and glamour, or repeatedly chase off a gaggle of male admirers, I’d stumble around in a jealous frenzy that would eventually kill me.”
“I shall try to never be glamorous or fantastic.”
“Praise the Lord. I like you just the way you are, so don’t let any of her flamboyance rub off on you. Or her stubbornness.”
“It’s too late on the stubbornness,” Caroline said. “I can be quite obstinate, remember?”
“Oh, yes, I remember.”
He kissed her sweetly, and as their lips parted, they sighed with pleasure.
“Guess what?” she said.
“What?”
“Mr. Periwinkle has left to bring Joanna to Barrett.”
“That’s wonderful news. The three of you will finally be together. When should we expect her?”
“He promised to have her here for the wedding next week. Guess what else?”
“I’m almost afraid to ask. With you and Libby conspiring, it might be any insane thing.”
“Joanna lives on an estate called Ralston Place. Isn’t that your father’s property?”
“My goodness, yes. It belongs to my half-brother, Jacob.”
“I thought that was it.”
“What is she doing there?” he asked.
“I have no idea. Mr. Periwinkle didn’t share any of her history with me, and I’m not certain he’s learned it. He chatted with her previously, but he was there to inquire about a reunion. I don’t believe they had much of a conversation beyond that request.”
“The eeriest shiver has raced down my spine. What are the odds that one of you Lost Girls would reside at Ralston?”
“I couldn’t calculate a number that high. Do you suppose she knows Jacob?”
“If she’s crossed paths with him,” he said, “it would have to be a very recent acquaintance. I just saw him in London, and he claimed he hadn’t met any of you.”
“Mr. Periwinkle didn’t describe her position at the estate, but isn’t Jacob the grand and glorious lord of the manor?”
“Don’t remind me.”
Caleb’s father and his estate were sore spots for him. When he was a boy growing up in Jamaica, he’d assumed he was Miles’s heir, but ultimately, his mother’s marriage had been ruled invalid in the law courts, so he’d been declared a bastard.
Jacob had inherited everything, while Caleb had received a few financial crumbs from Jacob’s mother. In exchange, he didn’t ever mention Miles’s bigamy.
But Esther was deceased, and Jacob had reached out to Caleb, wanting to be friends. He’d even invited Caleb to a house party in September. Caleb was debating whether to attend, but Caroline had already decided they were going. She simply hadn’t informed him yet.
Her greatest dream had always been to be a member of a big, happy family. If Jacob was willing to have them become members of his, she was eager to have it happen.
“Is it possible my father’s ghost is haunting us?” he asked. “I keep feeling him hovering over me.”
She smiled. “I like to think so. He’s been my hero my whole life, and it would please me to picture him guiding our steps from Heaven to guarantee I met you.”
“In light of how he betrayed my mother, I doubt he’s looking down from Heaven. If he’s anywhere, it’s probably in a locale quite a bit lower and hotter than that.”
“I refuse to accept it. In my view, he’s in Heaven.”
“Maybe he’s trying to wipe away his earthly sins by bringing us together.”
“Let’s imagine exactly that.”
“Well?”
Roxanne glared at the kitchen boy she’d had spy on Jacob. It was early morning, and they were huddled in her bedchamber. The door was closed to bar any eavesdroppers.
After the supper party had ended the prior evening, he’d snuck away again. She’d waited hours for him to come back, and when he didn’t, it was obvious she had to take action.
Her temper was flaring, and she had to calm down so she didn’t initiate responses she’d regret later on. Jacob wouldn’t allow himself to be scolded, and after his fight with Margaret, he wouldn’t be in any mood to quarrel.
Roxanne had to strategize and handle the debacle in a manner that would deliver the conclusion she required.
She figured she knew where he’d gone, and before the sun was up, she’d sent the boy to Miss James’s cottage. He’d just returned.
“I went there as you commanded,” the boy said.
“And . . . ?”
The child looked a tad ill. “I’m not sure I ought to tattle, Miss Ralston. The Captain is my master, and it can’t be proper.”
She slipped him a coin. “In most cases, it wouldn’t be, but I will be his wife very soon, so I’ll be mistress here. That means it’s perfectly appropriate for you to obey me.”
He was mulishly silent, and she growled with frustration. “For pity’s sake. I won’t tell him that you helped me—if that’s what is worrying you.”
“Could I talk to the butler first? He could advise me.”
She gnawed on her cheek, breathing deep so she didn’t slap him. “How about this? I’ll simply ask you a few questions. You can nod or shake your head. You won’t actually be speaking aloud, so you’re not really confessing anything.”
He pondered her suggestion, then shrugged. “I guess that would work.”
“Was the Captain there?”
A nod.
“Is he still there?”
A shake of the head.
“Was the sun up in the sky when he left?”
Another nod.
“Did you see Miss James?”
A shake of the head. “The cottage was dark. There wasn’t a candle or lamp burning.”
“As he mounted his horse, was he smiling?”
A vigorous nod.
Her blood boiled, and she grabbed his ear and twisted it until he winced in pain. “I won’t admit to anyone that we had this conversation, but you’d better not either. If I hear you’ve gossiped about it, I’ll have you whipped, then fired.”
“I won’t say a word. I swear.”
“Good. I believe we understand each other. You’re excused.”
He ran out as if she’d set him on fire. For several fraught minutes, she was frozen in place, then she went to the window and stared across the park to the woods, wishing she had magical eyes so she could peer all the way to Miss James’s hovel.
Roxanne was a sophisticated, worldly woman, and she wasn’t naïve. She knew men had affairs with pretty girls. She knew that they took vows to remain faithful, but they weren’t sincerely voiced. She fully expected Jacob to stray too, but . . .
She didn’t have to tolerate such a blatant flaunting of his misdeeds. She didn’t have to tolerate his sneaking out of the manor in the middle of the night. It was the very limit of what she could abide.
She wanted to put her foot down, but didn’t feel that she could. The engagement wasn’t official. What if she demanded he split with Miss James, and he split with Roxanne instead? What if he was that besotted? From how ridiculously he was acting, it was a definite concern.
